


Interdimensional Can Opener?

by Vegetableswillhavetheirrevenge



Series: Sam and Jack (AKA: the Jam Fam) [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 13.03 coda, Jack is adorable and I want to adopt him, Only very slightly but better safe than sorry, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Sam is an awesome dad, Self-Worth Issues, Slightly Dean critical
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-28
Updated: 2017-10-28
Packaged: 2019-01-25 13:44:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12532868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vegetableswillhavetheirrevenge/pseuds/Vegetableswillhavetheirrevenge
Summary: Jack asks Sam about some of what he heard Dean say.





	Interdimensional Can Opener?

**Author's Note:**

> So 13.03 has only succeeding in boosting my love of the Sam/Jack bond (and the parallels between the two) up by a thousand. And thus this scene was born, because I don't want Jack's self-esteem to be damaged any more than it already has (side-eyes Dean angrily).   
> I hope you like it and, as with any fic, feel free to leave a kudos/comment if you have the time. ^_^

“Is it true?”

Sam jerked up, twisting in place to face his bedroom door. “Wha- Jack? What are you still doing up?”

Jack took an uncertain step into the room, his bare feet brushing over the marble floor, shoulders somehow hunching even further as he glanced up at Sam through a shield of messy hair.

“Is it true?” He repeated, barely loud enough for Sam to hear, even with the full force of his attention focussed on the young boy before him. “That you only want me around to be an… an interdimensional can opener? That you-” The halting speech caught in his throat, and he clenched his hands at his side, forcing it out regardless. “That you only pretended to care?”

Sam was on his feet in a moment, only stopping himself from reaching out when Jack flinched- actually phsyically  _flinched_ \- away from him. “Jack, no. Why- why would you even think that?”

“I heard you talking to Dean.” Jack raised his head, the sting of something  _painful_ and  _ugly_ and  _new_ seeping into his eyes, the sheen of it threatening to fall at any moment. He forced it not to. “He said you just wanted me here because of what I can do. He said- he said you were only  _pretending_ to care, and you-”

He couldn’t do it. Couldn’t say it again. As much as the words had been swimming around his head for the past hours, saying it out loud it just… just felt more  _real,_ somehow, and he didn’t- He  _couldn’t_ -

It turned out he didn’t need to, though. Sam understood. It was obvious in the way his lips parted, in the widening of his eyes, and in the self-recriminatory shake of his head.

“And I didn’t tell him he was wrong.”

Jack couldn’t even bring himself to voice an affirmation. All he could do was give a single nod, gnawing at his lip in one last, desperate bid to keep the tears from falling.

“Jack-” Sam shuffled in place, the aborted step almost making him look almost like the baby they had seen stumbling along by its parent at a park on their way back to the bunker the other day. “Jack, do you remember what I told you? About how Dean reacts with anger when he doesn’t know what else to do?”

Jack nodded once more, still not trusting himself to speak.

“Well this is kind of connected. See-” Sam was the one to bite his lip this time, a shadow of some dark memory or other crossing his brow. “When Dean gets this way, he isn’t always willing to try and understand things from a different point of view. Sometimes… sometimes, when he’s so caught up in  _his_ emotions that it makes it hard for him to try to deal with  _other_  peoples’ feelings, it’s just easier to try to persuade him by only telling him the logical side of things. The things which will benefit  _him_ , too.” He reached out again, and this time Jack allowed it, the warm weight of Sam’s hand against his shoulder relaxing him even through the turmoil still pulsing in his chest.

“Of course I’d love it if you were able to get our mom back to us, Jack,” Sam continued, honest sincerity shining from his eyes and straight into Jack’s. “But even if you never do that- even if you never even try- I’ll still want you here. I’ll still care. Because you are  _good_ , Jack. Dean might not see that yet, but I do. And I’ll do my best to help you as much as I can, up to and beyond the day when you realise that for yourself. Okay? For as long as you want me to, I’ll help you.”

The tear which ran down Jack’s cheek was a strange mixture of warmth and cold, the chill in the air stealing the heat from it before it had even completed half of its trail. The feel of it was nothing compared to the one in his chest, though- a swell of so much emotion that, by all rights and logic, it  _should_ have been painful, but instead felt almost terrifyingly similar to what had reverberated through him as he had listened to his mother’s words.

Sam really did believe that he was good. Sam, who always looked at him with soft understanding and who had spoken of demon blood and not belonging and being scared of the darkness inside, but who had so unwaveringly told him that he was  _not evil_. Sam who had tried to protect him and stand up for him every step of the way. Sam who was always willing to listen and to help Jack to understand this whole confusing world and his place in it. Sam who had been willing to give him all the time and space he needed when he was struggling or frustrated.

Sam really did care, after all.

The warm hand patted his shoulder once, before moving away. “Do you want me to take you back to your room? Or… or we could watch a movie or something? If you need a little time to…”

Even as Sam trailed off, Jack was shaking his head. “No. Thank you.” He offered Sam a tremulous smile. “I think I’ll be okay now.”

Sam looked uncertain, but he nodded nonetheless. “If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure. Thank you. Good night, Sam.” And, with that, he padded back down the corridor to his room, a smile pulling at his lips as a gentle call of “Good night, Jack” echoed after him.

Back in his own room, Sam settled back down at his desk, looking once more at the spread of research in front of him. Every report and whisper of Nephilim he had been able to drudge up from the bunker’s depths.

If he was going to help Jack get a handle on his powers- to feel more confident in his ability not to harm those around him- Sam needed to know all he could, after all.


End file.
